


Michael Myers and the Audacity of This Bitch

by Theifindi



Category: Dead by Daylight (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Caring Michael, Cockwarming, D/s, Dom/sub, Dubious Consent, Fluff, Hurt and comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, No beta we die like survivors, Protective Michael, becomes enthusiastic consent, broken jake, cause I'm a sucker for that, fanfic of a fanfic, implied jake/dwight, this is so self indulgent, traumatized jake, unrealistic healing time for the mind
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-08
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:07:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27960512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Theifindi/pseuds/Theifindi
Summary: "This Bitch" is the Trapper, or anyone else who gets in between him and Jake.There are no spoilers for the fic this is based on, and it can be read alone, but some things may be a little confusing if you haven't read that first. Please heed the tags on that fic, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat. What you'll find here, however, is just fluff with a lil smut. <3
Relationships: Michael Myers/Jake Park
Comments: 27
Kudos: 228





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Bear-Traps and Crows](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26513128) by [PinkBellPepper](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PinkBellPepper/pseuds/PinkBellPepper). 



> Mkay I'm in love with the other fic and y'all should go read it if you're cool with the tags but also I'm a sucker for protective!Mike and possessive!Mike and Michael just taking care of his boi, ya'll, and I couldn't just... wait. I'm such a patient person. OTL Hope y'all like.

Michael was no fool. Oh, there was plenty to be said about brute strength and inhuman pain tolerance, certainly, but if there was truly nothing driving him, nothing at all behind the mask? Doubtful he would have gotten this far.

That said, he cared nothing at all for this ‘Entity.’ Something it seemed more amused by than annoyed. It had put him in its little game with Laurie, something Michael couldn’t deny he’d salivated at initially. The chance to stalk her, kill her, to his heart’s content? Don’t mind if he did. But then- something he hadn’t anticipated. It got _old_. It was more fun, when she fought back. And though she still tried here, there weren’t many times that she actually escaped. Thus, Michael found his obsession satisfied, and he began to grow… bored.

Boredom, which led him to watching the other survivors. Not with intent, per say, but a mild and passing interest. Perhaps a dash of hope- the hope for something _new_. He didn’t quite expect to _find_.

Jake Park was a survivor who had been around for a long time, though Michael hardly noticed him at first. He was quiet, sneaky. Whenever Michael did manage to hit him, he disappeared quickly, holding in any sounds of pain and making himself difficult to pinpoint. Oftentimes the only way to find him was to follow the trail of broken hooks.

The tolerance- perhaps that was what captured Michael’s interest initially. He couldn’t say for sure. But once he began to watch- he simply couldn’t stop. Jake’s hands moving deftly across the guts of a generator. His sharp eyes looking for a killer he couldn’t spot. The gentility with which he treated the Entity’s crows. Michael drank it all in greedily, until that was no longer enough, either.

He had a thought. What would it be like to truly _have_ something? Someone? No struggling, no screaming- to hold and not have to brace against pain or rage or hatred? These emotions other people experienced, was it something Michael could have, too? To have someone beg, but not for their life, or for him to stop? To own entirely… The idea festered, until it was all-consuming. And who better than Jake to be the object of such obsession? Quiet, soft Jake, who showed even creations of the Entity care and compassion.

For his plan to work, however, there couldn’t be force. Fear. More flies with honey and all that. He had to ease into this. So he started by going a little easier on him in the trials, giving him the hatch if he could. _Trying_ not to hit him, though that was much more difficult. The Entity seemed to be holding its breath, watching. Michael ignored it.

And then the plan went entirely off the rails when Jake disappeared.

Michael was not to be deterred. Trials were finished as quickly as possible, with no care for the outcome or the Entity’s dissatisfaction. Jake was _his_ , the _audacity_ \- Michael searched.

His hunt led him to Ghostface, who was in possession of certain photographs, which led him to Trapper, which confirmed all Michael had thought. Rage simmered. He had to wait, though, for the right time.

_Soon_ , he promised Jake.

_Soon,_ he promised Trapper, too.

In the end, however, he didn’t have to take care of Trapper, though he was well prepared to do so. It seemed he simply had to follow the trail left for him.

What began as triumph blistered into defeat, and a kind of incensed rage he’d felt only a few times before. He sat up in Haddonfield, the Entity cackling in his ears, and a new plan forming.

Jake was _his._ It seemed he hadn’t made that quite obvious enough.

Michael shelved the rage. It would do no good to go in without a clear head. They’d surprised him, that was all. It wouldn’t happen again.

He strode quickly down the street, into the forest, in to the hub. He followed the whispers to Ormond. They would feel him as soon as he hit the gate, the same as he felt the _wrongness_ of being in another’s realm. Of trespassing. He stood in the gate, motionless. Waiting.

The Legion did not appear. At last, Michael moved.

He searched methodically, leaving no stone unturned. Trapper had had Jake hidden well- Michael would not underestimate the others. And yet he found what he was looking for comparatively out in the open. A wooden shack, hardly protected from the elements. That just wouldn’t do. Jake was curled inside, shivering in his sleep, covered barely by a hoodie from one of the Legion. They’d have to fix that. But in a moment- he hadn’t succeeded yet.

Michael stooped inside, carefully scooping Jake up and cradling him close. The shared heat caused Jake to cease shivering, relaxing into Michael’s hold. He took a moment to inhale gently into Jake’s hair, taking him in. It seemed this was going to work out exactly (more or less) as he wanted.

The walk back to Haddonfield was a blur. Michael’s only focus on Jake. He stayed asleep the whole way, never stirring. He really was out- Michael held on a little tighter as he stepped into Haddonfield. Nothing felt wrong here- no trespassers.

Into the house they went.

While not part of a trial, the Strode residence was actually quite nice. Plush furniture, a TV that only ran Night of the Living Dead on repeat, and fully functional lights, water, windows, and doors, with a room that could be locked and would be perfect for what they needed.

It was where Michael went then, shouldering the door open and kicking it closed behind them.

This room didn’t appear the same as the rest of the Strode residence. It was instead pulled from Michael’s memories of the hospital. Green walls, a barred window, masks over the walls, a small desk, and a truly uncomfortable bed. It didn’t bother Michael, but it may bother Jake…

Decision made, Michael settled on the bed with Jake carefully nestled against his chest in his lap. Breathing easy and warm, Michael could have purred with the satisfaction curling in his chest. He wanted to put his hands all over Jake, but he had to be patient. He settled with rubbing his thumb softly back and forth on a small stretch of skin barely under the hem of the sweatshirt.

And he waited.

-=-

Jake awoke slowly. He was warm and comfortable, and Dwight was gently soothing his leg. His ass didn’t hurt-much- and-

His mind short circuited. Dwight couldn’t be touching him, because Dwight has been taken. And he’d fallen asleep in Ormond, so why was it so warm? He almost didn’t want to open his eyes, terror flooding him. But- he had to know. If he could escape… If he was _back…_

Jake looked around, cautious and worried. Nothing looked familiar. He sucked in a breath and looked up.

Michael.

Sheer force of will held back his whimper. Couldn’t he catch a break for more than two seconds? Couldn’t anything go right? He rubbed his dry eyes, like if he could do that hard enough he’d open them and be back at the campfire. He didn’t.

“I thought you were Dwight.” He confessed, and then flinched, expecting pain.

None came. Only the soothing movement of that thumb, back and forth on his leg. Drumming up his courage, he looked up at Michael again.

“Are you going to let me go?”

A general tightening of Michael’s grip. _No._ Jake swallowed hard.

“Are you going to hurt me?”

The tight grip relaxed. _No._ Jake closed his eyes. They were both silent for a long time.

“Am I supposed to be yours now? Is that it?” Jake asked helplessly.

Michael gave no gesture whatsoever to answer that one.

Jake sniffed quietly. What should he do? Out of the frying pan, into the fiery pits of a volcano. What _could_ he do? Michael was perhaps more fearsome than the other killers, just though sheer relentlessness. And here in Haddonfield, he was nigh unstoppable. If Michael wanted him… Probably even the Entity wouldn’t be able to keep Jake away. What fresh hell awaited him here? The not knowing, the lack of expectation, it sent his mind whirling. Was the devil he knew better than whatever Michael had in store for him?

He was broken from his thoughts by Michael shifting underneath him. He fisted his hands in the coveralls by his chest, clinging and tense as Michael made it to the door. Down the hall. Into a- bathroom? It was here that Michael put him down, closing the door and going to the tub. Jake jumped in shock when Michael turned the tap and actual _water_ came pouring out.

It was new and made no sense, and for a while Jake simply stood and felt dizzy. Once the tub was full, Michael turned off the water and turned to him expectantly.

“For- for me?” Jake asked dumbly.

Michael didn’t move. Jake thought he saw the glint of eyes behind the dark holes of the mask and turned away uneasily. Without looking at Michael, he stripped himself of the hoodie. He didn’t want to turn, to see Michael staring, but modesty had gone out the window a _long_ time ago.

Jake stepped into the water with gritted teeth. It was warm, but stung the cuts and scrapes all over his skin as he lowered himself down. The brand hitting the water made him gasp, and he became all the more determined not to make another sound. With Michael kneeling just beside him, Jake managed to submerge his body under the water, which was already tinting pink-brown with blood and dirt.

“Like this?” He asked, a little more breathlessly than he’d like.

Michael tilted his head just slightly to the side, but predictably made no sound. Slowly, he reached into the water for Jake’s feet. Jake had the half mad thought that Michael would drown him, and then he’d wake up back with his Mas-

He choked on a sob of surprise when Michael gently took his ankle in between his hands and began to chafe carefully, washing away blood and dirt and sweat as though Jake was as fragile as a baby deer. Michael was thorough, and the tub had been emptied and refilled twice more before he deemed Jake clean, and everywhere hurt. Then, again starting at his ankles, Michael began to _massage_ \- Jake hiccupped on a moan he’d been too late to hide. One of Michael’s massive hands rested on his thigh, his thumb soothing back and forth and urging Jake to relax.

Michael worked his way up both legs, up Jake’s arms, over his hips and chest- even the top of his head got a gentle massage as Michael worked cupped handfuls of water through his hair. By the end of it, Jake felt dazed and limp. A soft squeeze of his thigh had him snapping to attention, however. He looked- Michael had his free hand poised over Jake’s crotch, motionless, waiting. And Jake- somehow he’d gotten _hard_. He flushed, trying to draw his legs up to hide it, but faltered when Michael’s hand squeezed his thigh softly. Heart pounding, Jake tried to study Michael’s masked face, his body language. Was- was he asking permission? Or just trying to give him a heads up?

Evidently Jake had paused too long, because Michael simply went back to massaging Jake’s hip and one of his feet. Permission, then? Michael seemed to just be reveling in the feel of Jake’s skin on his, the way his muscles involuntarily flexed when a movement was ticklish or just this side of painful.

“Are you going to send me back?” Jake chanced asking, since he hadn’t yet been punished for questions. “After you’re done with me? Am I g-going back to h-him?” He couldn’t help the anxiety that tripped up his words.

The hand Michael had on his hip moved slowly, up to Jake’s throat and closed just enough for Jake to feel the slightest of pressures. _Mine._ Jake swallowed and nodded, his breath quickening, and oh- he was so fucked up, that this turned him on, that Michael made him feel _safe_ \- he squeezed his eyes shut, trying to get a handle on himself, and felt Michael’s thumb resume its soothing motion just behind his ear and under his jawline.

“Okay-” Jake said to himself. “Okay, in for a penny in for a pound, right? I- okay?” He looked at Michael, realizing his own chest was heaving. “I-I’m yours, okay? Please don’t hurt me.” Accepting that he was powerless was painful, but when Michael rewarded him with a slick, tight hand around his cock and the somehow comforting pressure around his throat- Jake decided this, perhaps, was a pain he could live with.

Michael took his time with this, too. Everything that got a reaction out of Jake was cataloged and memorized, and if it was a reaction that could be deemed good, repeated, until Jake was a moaning, whimpering mess.

“Please, please, please let me come, please-” Jake begged, hips thrusting weakly into Michael’s hand, trying not to splash or move his throat. “O-oh fu- Mi- plea-” Jake shuddered as Michael’s hand coaxed him over the edge, reducing him to garbled, “Thankyouthankyouthankyou Master, thank you-”

Michael gentled him down, petting over his body as he drained the tub for the final time. At last, he tapped Jake’s hip softly, drawing his bleary attention, before poking the name on his coveralls.

“Michael- Michael, sorry, sorry-” Jake corrected quickly, panicking, but all he received was a gentle thumb under his eye, wiping a stray drop of water.

Michael lifted him out and toweled him off with a ratty towel produced from under the sink. Bundled up, Michael carried him out into the bedroom again, fishing out a t-shirt and boxers of his own for Jake to wear.

Beyond grateful for clothes, Jake didn’t care that they slipped and slid all over his frame. He hugged the shirt close, looking up and Michael with trepidation. This all had to cost something, didn’t it? Michael would want something, and- oh fuck, he was hard-

Jake looked back up at Michael’s face- mask, rather- to see he hadn’t moved. Just a slight tilt of the head before looking pointedly at the bed, then back to Jake. He wanted to do this on the bed? Okay. Jake could do that. It was a mercy. Jake climbed onto the creaking mattress- it was shockingly soft, aside form the occasional spring. Maybe Michael wanted to fuck him with his clothes on? Somehow? He tried not to think about it and put his head down and his ass up, presenting.

The shift of fabric was his only clue when Michael moved, a soft, appreciative hand skating down from his shoulders to his ass. Again. Rhythmic, until Jake cautiously relaxed into it. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad. Michael’s touch became more firm, pushing Jake to lay on his side, head on the pillows, thick quilt wrapped around him.

With that, Michael sat at the small desk next to Jake’s head and began to work on delicately painting one of his masks. Jake watched him for a while, the careful movements of his hands. It was quiet. No screaming, no pain. If Michael wanted to hurt him, he’d had ample opportunity. And it was clear he wanted to fuck Jake- but he hadn’t done that either, though again, he absolutely could have.

Which left Jake with… He cared? He… cared.

Michael’s hand came to carefully tug the blanket up passed Jake’s shoulder, smearing a bit of blue paint with it.

Warm, clean, sated, and decidedly safe for the time being, Jake slept.

-=-

Jake had been with Michael only a few days, and already Michael’s patience had won him victories. Jake spoke to him, for one. Quietly, and not about anything important. It was soothing. He didn’t bother Michael about the masks, mostly just watching with interest. He allowed Michael to lay beside him to rest, and though Michael didn’t require sleep, it was supremely satisfying to feel Jake curl in closer while he slept.

There had been two trials in the meantime, where instead of hunting survivors, Michael paced Haddonfield, watching the crows. Dedicating his not insignificant attention to their movements until he was sure he had them memorized.

When he left, Jake thought it was another trial. He’d stopped Michael by the door, holding his hand and asking,

“Please don’t hurt my friends, Michael. I’m sorry, I just- I just have to try to help them, even though I’m…” He’d trailed off, and then because even on tip-toes he couldn’t reach, chastely kissed Michael’s fingers.

Evan had done a number on Michael’s little Saboteur, taking away most of his fire. Michael would fix that; and then- well. The Entity would feed well, then. Michael squeezed Jake’s hand and had been off.

Haddonfield had its share of crows. Michael was sure Jake missed them, and the one before had done an admirable job at protecting Jake, before Michael killed it. His plan involved staying very still until it was time to strike- except without killing- and in this way he found himself with a bird in each hand, both screeching at him, but with their wings carefully pinned, there was little they could do.

He went home.

There was no way it was a surprise; the birds screamed up until Michael put them carefully onto the bed beside Jake. Jake, who looked shocked the entire time. The crows calmed when they saw Jake, hopping all over him and pecking affectionately at his hair.

Later, the crows resting on a shelf Jake had carefully cleared (Michael lifting him to do so,) and both of them laying on the bed, Jake kissed Michael’s hands over and over, thanking him in between the press of his lips. Michael rubbed over Jake’s skin, his ribs under his shirt, his stomach, his back. He reveled in the soft moan Jake rewarded him with, squeezing as Jake arched his back.

_Mine._

“Yours, yours, Michael- fuck- yes, please, yours-” Jake whimpered, and Michael knew this was something he’d never get tired of.

There was an overhead light in the room, but for now it was off, the only illumination being the soft glow of the small desk lamp. It was enough that Michael felt safe enough to draw back and slowly begin undressing himself, watching Jake for a reaction. All he saw was hunger and curiosity. He didn’t want to chase away all the progress they’d made, and so stayed with that, stopping before removing the mask and returning to bed.

The clothes Jake wore exposed his hipbones, his collarbone, and Michael knew that for all their ill-fitting glory, they gave Jake a modicum of security. The shirt could stay, for now. He slid the boxers off of Jake, tossing them away, and lifted Jake by his hips so that he didn’t have to bend. Folding up the bottom of the mask was awkward but not impossible, especially with Jake behaving so well and staying still for him.

As soon as all barriers were removed, Michael dove in, dragging the flat of his tongue over Jake’s hole. Jake rewarded him with a soft whine, so Michael did it again and again, each time adding more pressure until his tongue was inside Jake. It was wet and sloppy, and Jake’s thighs were trembling in Michael’s grip, hips flexing as he tried to arch his back but found he couldn’t. Jake was whimpering, sensitive and too-much, but unable to tell Michael to stop.

His reprieve came when Michael at last lowered his hips to the bed, and he desperately tried to control his ragged breathing. Just when Jake thought he had a handle on it, a slick, warm finger was pressing in slowly where Michael’s tongue had been. Jake gave a sharp sound before instinctively bearing down. It didn’t hurt; Michael seemed to have made sure of that.

Jake had well caught on at this point that Michael wanted him willing, and evidently was willing to go to every length to make that happen. Before he knew it, there was another finger pressing in. So deep, Jake groaned; Michael was doing a thorough job, scissoring and thrusting, every time just brushing Jake’s prostate, it was driving him _mad._

A third finger, Jake felt impossibly full, and had to work to relax into the stretch. Fuck it, he _wanted_ this. Michael meant no pain, meant safety, meant _care_ , as far as that went in the Entity’s realm. Michael was making him feel _good-_

“Fuck-!” Michael had found his prostate, and rather than thrust against it, he was keeping his fingers pushed hard on it and rubbing back and forth oh-so-fucking-slowly. “Michael- _yes_ \- that’s- fuck, that’s so good, that’ssogoodyes-”

The threat of a fourth finger, teasingly resting against him until it pushed enough to stretch and then all withdrew, leaving Jake gaping and empty and choking on gasps.

Michael loomed over him, Jake’s thighs spread wide around his hips. His massive hand came to rest on Jake’s throat, lightly closing and just _holding_. Jake couldn’t look away from Michael’s mask as he began to thrust in with his cock, slow but relentless, forcing Jake to just take what he was given. Jake groaned when Michael bottomed out, their hips flush.

Michael’s thumb rubbed behind Jake’s ear to just under his jaw. _Mine._

Jake blinked back, syrupy slow as his mind began to drift into a hazy, warm, comfortable place, where nothing else existed but this. _Yours._

Michael began to move, slowly and shallowly at first, little more than grinding, but built up until he was hunched over Jake and pounding into him, holding Jake in place as he moaned and cried out. Each thrust threatened to jolt Jake farther up the bed, but with Michael’s hand on his throat, he couldn’t go anywhere. Michael’s cock was so deep, Jake couldn’t escape the sensation if he wanted to. With his own cock rubbing between their bellies, he felt like any moment now he’d break.

It should worry him, probably, but the headspace he was in made it okay- he was being good for Michael, and that was really all that was important, wasn’t it?

It felt too soon that Michael lost the rhythm and just started pounding hard and fast, breathing more harshly than Jake had ever heard. The ramped up intensity had Jake coming with a shout, curling in on himself as much as he could with restricted movement. Michael stilled, fully seated, and Jake felt him bobbing inside, pulling at Jake’s walls as he filled him up. Jake was limp with the afterglow, and was very not-prepared when Michael pulled out. He whined, missing the warmth immediately.

Michael paid him no heed, fingers gently dancing along Jake’s rim checking for damage. A pearly bead of cum winked out, trying to obey gravity, but Michael stubbornly pushed it back in. He wanted Jake full of him, always. He went to his desk, rummaging a moment, before coming away with his prize.

The plug was wooden, carved smooth and oiled shiny. Michael had made it well in advance, but Jake didn’t need to know that. He held it up for Jake to see and waited, motionless. Thankfully, Jake caught on fast.

“ _Oh._ ” He breathed, eyes widening, before he flushed a deep red and twitched his knees farther apart in acquiescence.

Michael- almost tenderly- guided what cum had leaked out back in before rocking the plug into place, Jake moaning weakly at the fullness. He helped Jake with his boxers, and put himself back into his clothes, before crawling into bed and gathering Jake to his chest.

The Saboteur yawned and nestled close. Michael’s eyes glinted in the half-light.

_Mine._


	2. Changing Hands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael is now in possession of The Audacity(TM).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's short.
> 
> It's pretty much all p0rn, does that make up for it?
> 
> Y'all's comments just- AGH- kept me going.

Michael was contemplative. The Trapper was on a war path, searching for what he thought belonged to him. Just the passing implication of Jake possibly belonging to anyone else had Michael tightening his hold on his paintbrush. Jake, unaware of his thoughts and preoccupied with teaching his crows to find a shiny button in the mess of blankets on the bed, was oblivious, smiling softly at the little black-feathered creatures as they pecked and clawed at the fabric.

They wouldn’t be safe here for long. Eventually, Evan would exhaust every other option and come knocking. And while the Strode house had functional locks, while not in a trial the doors were just as breakable as any other that could be found in reality; and all the killers knew it.

He turned to watch Jake, as he so often did, and knew there had to be a plan. He needed to be prepared, to either defend what was his or be forced to give it up.

Pity. Evan wouldn’t know what hit him.

-=-

Jake awoke early- or, rather, it felt early. Michael was moving him, still nestled in blankets and nude underneath from the previous night. Jake hummed softly and turned his head until his nose met the plane of Michael’s shoulder, which he pressed into gently. Time didn’t really mean anything here; Jake felt like he’d been around Michael long enough to understand him. At least, as much as anyone could. Michael never said anything, and Jake didn’t expect that to change, but he communicated in other ways. Stares, mostly. Damn-near imperceptible shifts in body language.

Jake gathered that Michael was intensely possessive. That much was glaringly obvious. But there was something almost insecure given away at the same time that Jake didn’t think Michael intended to express at all, something about the way he held on to Jake, or hesitated just the barest of seconds to be sure of his welcome. A welcome which Jake had chosen not to examine. Michael made him feel good, safe, brought him gifts and seemed to appreciate his company. It was enough. More than.

Michael had stopped moving, was simply holding and adjusting now. They were sitting, Jake on Michael’s lap. He felt too muzzy and tired to open his eyes just yet, but when he felt the blankets part and Michael shift him a little more just to slide easily into his still-loose hole, he thought that maybe he should have. At least so he could have prepared himself.

There was a joke in there, somewhere. Michael was so large, and had fucked him so thoroughly the night before; Jake’s still-slick body made room for him easily. Jake groaned as Michael settled, shifting his hips until it was all _just right_. A large hand snaked under the blankets, pressing into Jake’s sternum and ribs. They were at Michael’s desk, and from the vague reflection in the window, Jake could tell that Michael had chosen to dress. His name tag on his coveralls stood out easily on the pane. Jake’s arms were trapped close to his body under the blanket; it looked like Michael had just wrapped him up and gotten him ready for easy use.

The thought made a shudder go through him, his breath picking up. Michael was hard and unyielding inside of him, weighty and impossible to ignore. Michael’s thumb began to rub soothingly up and down his sternum, fingertips pressing a little harder. Jake followed the pressure, easing into leaning back against Michael’s chest. He allowed a soft, breathy moan to escape, turning his face into Michael’s throat. Inside him, Michael’s cock twitched at the sound, pulling a whimper from Jake’s throat at the tug to his rim and some less-identifiable place higher in his stomach.

But Michael didn’t move. Seemed to want to idly work on a mask- maybe had something else on his mind? That was fine, Jake decided. He was still sleep-foggy, warm, and shockingly comfortable. Michael didn’t soften, but he didn’t move either. Jake adjusted and his breathing evened out. He drifted, and at some point, dropped off into a light nap.

When he awoke, it was because Michael was moving him again. He’d cleared off the desk and used the room to put Jake face-down on it, bent at the waist. The table was just tall enough that Jake’s toes hardly brushed the floor, and Michael had tugged the blanket so it was less a loose wrap and more of a tight confinement. One hand planted on the small of Jake’s back, Michael began to fuck into him with long, slow strokes. Jake let out a garbled moan, trying to tilt his hips up to receive Michael at a better angle, but unable to really change much.

Michael’s hand pressed harder, and his hips paused.

_No. Take it._

Jake whined softly and nodded, almost frantically, before resting his forehead on the desk and panting. There was nothing else to focus on, nowhere he could escape to mentally to try to last longer. Michael was even with his strokes, setting a constant pace. Every once in a while he’d linger to press hard into Jake’s prostate, just to see him arch and squirm. Michael didn’t speed up or change the rhythm, not until he had Jake a whimpering, begging mess under him, hole sloppy and hardly able to clench anymore (though Jake did try, an admirable effort, his muscles fluttering around Michael’s cock beautifully, albeit weakly). When the small movements of Jake’s hips became unbearable, Michael at last pulled out, breathing harshly through his nose and wrestling himself under control.

He had a plan, and coming here and now inside Jake was _not_ part of it. Not yet.

Jake, a shivering, flushed, whimpering mess, was trying to peer over his shoulder, confused and wanting. Michael pushed gentle fingers through Jake’s hair, trying to soothe his boy.

_It’s okay. I’m right here._

Calmed, Jake relaxed and put his head down again, taking the time to catch his breath. Michael felt a dark satisfaction curl in his chest, and something less dark and a lot more soft that he pushed away instinctively. His boy was so strong, so eager to please. He didn’t complain, or get greedy- simply trusted Michael to take care of him best, and did his best to accept what was given. Michael curled his hand around the back of Jake’s neck, squeezing gently before moving away again.

He returned with a strip of fabric, which he tied around Jake’s eyes tightly. Once in place, he made a few hand motions in front of Jake’s eyes, but Jake made no move whatsoever to indicate he could see it. _Perfect._ As a reward, Michael stepped behind and slipped inside of Jake again, giving him a few more hard thrusts, grinding against his prostate and bringing him teeteringly close to the edge again.

“M-Michael!” Jake broke at last, crying out his name. A plea. Michael rewarded him with another harsh grind that had Jake sobbing brokenly into the desk.

With that, Michael pulled out and swept Jake into his arms. Now for the part Michael had truly been waiting for.

He carried Jake downstairs, to the front room of the Strode house. He’d moved some furniture around and made room in front of the big window that overlooked the street. It was there that he put Jake, pressed him face-first up against the glass and made sure he was well balanced and comfortable before slipping inside of him.

Michael thrusted lazily, gaze torn between his boy and the truly delightful show on the street. Jake was crying out so sweetly, trying to push back into him, trying to give just as good as he got. Michael gripped his hips and picked up the pace, Jake’s cries turning to sharp yelps of pleasure every time Michael hit home. It was somewhere in there that Jake came, shuddering and gasping and whimpering as Michael fucked him through it, painting the window and the blanket with his spend.

Michael didn’t mind. Jake was his good boy, he deserved to come as much as he needed to- and it added a wicked little twist to everything, too. Michael bent over Jake, putting his face close to Jake’s in the glass of the window, fucking into Jake’s body as Jake nuzzled into his throat, kissing whatever skin he could reach.

Outside, unable to be heard, the Trapper stood in the street.

Well, _stood_ was generous, but _trapped_ was a bit too on the nose. Held in place by a thick tar pit that had opened up in the middle of Haddonfield, he was screaming to the point of frothing at the mouth. He’d taken to throwing whatever was in arm’s reach at the window when they first showed up, but he’d long since run out of ammunition. When Jake came, the screaming stopped, and Evan stilled, chest heaving with exertion. He didn’t seem to be watching Jake any longer, his eyes locked onto Michael instead.

Words weren’t an option, or Michael would have done the pedestrian thing and simply threatened Evan to stay away. No, _showing_ him that Jake was lost to him was really the only way. It had the added benefit of also being _infinitely_ more satisfying, as well.

Below him, Jake began to shake with overstimulation, whimpering softly and nipping at Michael’s throat to get his attention, beyond words. Michael massaged his hips, trying to reassure. _Just a little longer._ He wanted Evan to see how far gone Jake was, and exactly what kind of reckoning he’d be begging for if he tried to take Jake anyway. He moved one hand to the sill, using his thumb to push the window up just enough so that sound could escape outside, to where Evan could hear.

And then he fucked Jake, with _intent_.

Jake, knowing that Michael was done fooling around and was ready to come, groaned shakily.

“Yeah, yeah, yes- _fuck_ \- Michael- yes, please, in me-” He babbled, broken by the jolts from Michael’s hips and the electric pleasure shooting up his spine each time. “Come in- in me, please, Michael, want it so bad- w-wanna be full- _yoursyesyesyesfuh-_ ” He choked when Michael at last fell over the edge, spilling into him with a low grunt.

Quickly, before Evan could find something to scream about that, Michael reached up and pushed the window down and shut, his eyes never leaving Evan’s face.

All motion stilled, Michael’s hand was the only thing keeping Jake upright. He gently pulled out of his boy, regretfully letting some of his spend leak out and drip onto the floor, down Jake’s thighs. It was clear, by the complicated expression that passed over Evans’ face, that he’d seen. And that was enough for Michael.

He picked Jake up again, carrying him upstairs. Jake was quiet, making soft hums under his breath that Michael didn’t think he was even aware of making. In the bedroom, he put Jake down on the bed and unwrapped him from the blankets, rubbing his hands over Jake’s body and chaffing some life back into his biceps. With an old pair of boxers he cleaned Jake up from sweat and come, and as was nearly a ritual now, checked his rim for damage. There was none, but Jake made a high noise of surprise and protest at more contact there.

Michael soothed him with a hand running up and down his thigh. At last satisfied, at least for the moment, Michael rolled into bed with Jake, gathering him up in his arms. He pulled off the blindfold at last, watching as Jake’s warm brown eyes blinked open, and a small, sort of dopey smile appeared on his face.

“Hey.” Jake mumbled. “We should do that again.”

Michael put his face in Jake’s hair, letting a low growl of satisfaction emerge from his chest. It was short, and hoarse, but he felt a shiver go through Jake at it.

“And that. You should do that more. With your dick in me, preferably.” Jake mumbled into Michael’s chest.

Yeah, Michael could get behind that. He’d be happy to put Evan in his place again.

Or not, if Jake just wanted to do it all again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The idea of Michael fucking Jake in front of the Trapper just *wouldn't leave me alone*. I was gonna do more fluff but I just.  
> It's.  
> *Michael and his boi y'all*
> 
> Edit:  
> Totally forgot to mention this but yes  
> Mike let Evan find his own way out

**Author's Note:**

> yes, the title is also the filename. no, i couldn't come up with a better title.
> 
> Michael has had Enough, fight me.
> 
> This is complete but like I also might add more as sweet tooth grows.


End file.
